Slow Dances
by KissHerJack
Summary: What used to get them by just isn’t enough anymore, and it takes a weekend wedding to make them admit it. RATINGS NOTE: Perhaps stretches the PG-13 rating Rating for Sensuality level. (This story continues in the R rated story titled THIRTEEN HOURS)
1. Default Chapter

Title: Slow Dances  
  
Author: Gail R. Delaney RmceWrtrhotmail.com  
  
Rating: PG –13 to R depending on the chapter  
  
Pairing: Sam/Jack All Sam/Jack... nothing but Sam/Jack  
  
Summary: What used to get them by just isn't enough anymore, and it takes a weekend wedding to make them admit it.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate, Jack, Sam, Teal'c ... none of them. I just have a muse that won't be quiet until I get this down 'on paper'. Then maybe she'll let me get back to my manuscript. I don't write these for money, just my own satisfaction  
  
Genre: Romance – all romance – nothing but romance. So help me, God  
  
Timeline: Immediately before Lost City  
  
Feedback: Absolutely!  
  
Archives: At my site, www.gaildelaney.com, ff.net. SJD, yes. Anywhere else, just ask. I'll probably say yes... just want to know where. 


	2. Slow Dances 1

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
1900 hours Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
  
"Carter! Hey, Carter!"  
  
Sam stopped ten feet short of the final checkpoint leading out of Cheyenne Mountain, and turned back to see her CO, Jack O'Neill, jogging towards her. She tried not to focus on how damn good he looked in his black leather jacket and faded jeans.  
  
"Did you need something, sir?"  
  
"Nah," he said, slowing his jog when he reached her. "Just thought I'd... you know... walk you out... or something."  
  
Sam smiled. "Thank you, sir."  
  
They both signed out with the airman posted at the entrance and stepped out into the cool evening air. With autumn's onset, darkness fell earlier and earlier, making Sam long for days of sunshine. Sometimes, she felt like she went to work in the middle of the night and went home in the middle of the night. Either that, or she had moved to Anchorage and was trapped in six months of darkness.  
  
She hitched her duffle bag up on her shoulder and fished in her pocket for her car keys.  
  
"Big bag. Going somewhere?"  
  
"Just a weekend trip to Denver. I didn't want to leave everything in my trunk all day," she answered, her thoughts straying to the reason for the trip. And how her plans were different than she originally anticipated.  
  
"Anything fun?"  
  
Jack slipped his hand beneath the strap of the duffle and lifted it off her shoulder, transferring it to his own. Sam was grateful for the relief. The large bruise on her shoulder blade, a result of a hard fall on P37-222, had throbbed beneath the weight. They walked side-by-side down the rows of assorted cars, trucks and SUV's to the far end of the lot.  
  
"No. Well – yes, I suppose. It could be."  
  
Jack's eyebrows arched, silently asking the question: care to explain? Sam chuckled softly at her own indecisiveness. "I'm going to a wedding. A good friend of mine from MIT is getting married."  
  
"Oh. That's... nice," he said, his tone making it clear he didn't know if it was or not.  
  
They reached her car, and she unlocked the trunk. Jack set the duffle inside beside the black garment bag she had carefully laid out flat that morning. He rested his arm over his head on the open trunk lid. The stance pulled his jacket away from his side, showing off his tone abdomen beneath his tee shirt and the way the frayed waistband of his jeans fit him just right. Sam forced herself to look away, silently reminding herself that such thoughts were dangerous.  
  
Wrong.  
  
Against regulations.  
  
Just... wrong.  
  
"Oh, it is nice. I mean, nice for Erin. I just—" He watched her expectantly. Sam sighed. "When I RSVP'd, I told her I'd be bringing a guest."  
  
"Ooohh," he said. "Paul? No... Pat... Wait... Pete?"  
  
Sam's cheeks flushed hot, choosing to ignore Jack's sarcastic 'forgetting' of Pete's name. She hadn't said anything to Jack since that one day in the elevator when he called her on her humming... and the crazy days following. He didn't know that a month after Osiris was captured and Sarah was freed, Sam told Pete they had no future. Whether she could do anything about it, or not – admit it, or not – she loved Jack and it just wasn't fair to Pete to try and deny it.  
  
And how does one bring up to the man she loves that she's no longer dating another man? It wasn't exactly an everyday conversation.  
  
"No Pete?"  
  
She realized she hadn't answered, and drew in a slow breath before looking up into Jack's face. "No Pete. Not now. Not in awhile."  
  
Sam saw the shift in his expression, the slight parting of his lips, and wondered the true meaning of it. Was it relief? Was he glad? Or did it just make things complicated all over again? Jack pushed down on the trunk lid, closing it with a loud thunk. He kept his hand on the back of her car, leaning into it.  
  
"So, now you don't have a date," he stated.  
  
"Right. And I'll have to give some excuse—"  
  
"I'll be at your place in forty-five minutes." He cut her words short.  
  
"W-what?"  
  
"Better yet, just follow me home. And we'll go from there."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Jack grinned, slow and sexy and tempting. "Can't have you go without a date." 


	3. Slow Dances 2

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
Jack shifted his gaze easily back and forth from the road ahead to Sam in the passenger seat. She sucked in a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. He chuckled softly at her shuddered "Oh, God..."  
  
She sat with her back in the corner created by the seat and the door, her knees drawn up to her chest. Jack wished he could see her face better, willing to bet her cheeks were flushed and her lips spread in a wide smile. Sam took a couple more minutes to control her breathing before she spoke.  
  
"What did your CO do when he found out?"  
  
Jack grinned. "He said he was glad the Lieutenant and I were able to work our personal issues out between us."  
  
Sam's laughter filled the car again, and Jack found it infectious. She straightened one knee and tapped his hip with the toe of her shoe – a playful nudge that did more than just make him smile.  
  
"Sir, I am amazed sometimes at how you ever made Colonel."  
  
He tried to sound shocked. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I have never met anyone who can be as good a leader as you, and still have such a blatant disregard for authority."  
  
He heard the teasing in her voice, but liked the earnest tone that lay beneath. "Yeah, well..." was the only explanation he gave.  
  
Comfortable silence settled in the car after that. The sound of motion with the slight strains of music on the radio, so low only the melody could be heard. Sam drew in a long, deep breath – letting it out slowly.  
  
"What was that sigh for?"  
  
"Nothing, sir. Just... relaxing."  
  
"I think we can drop the 'sir' for the weekend, Carter. I doubt there will be many women at this thing calling their dates 'sir'."  
  
"Oh, and I'm sure that most men will refer to their companions by their last name or rank?" A subtle laugh laced her words.  
  
"Point taken. So, what are the plans for the weekend?"  
  
Sam shifted, turning to face forward again. The close proximity was broken, and Jack found himself missing it. Nothing new there.  
  
"Erin's parents are hosting a cook-out at their house tomorrow for the whole day. Then the rehearsal tomorrow night followed by dinner. The wedding is Sunday afternoon at 1600. Are you sure you want to do this, Jack?"  
  
He glanced at her, only barely making out the definition of her features in the darkness. "Do what?"  
  
"The whole weekend. Hanging out with people you don't know... who don't know you."  
  
"I'm a great people person."  
  
Sam laughed softly. He liked it when she laughed, loved it when he was the one making her do it.  
  
"What?" he asked, as deadpan as possible.  
  
"Sorry. Of course... your people skills far surpass any diplomat I have ever met."  
  
"Is that sarcasm?"  
  
"Never!" She paused, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her watching him. "They're also going to assume things."  
  
"Assume what?"  
  
"That you and I are together."  
  
Jack shrugged. "Let them think what they want." He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "We know the truth."  
  
She didn't say anything for several moments, then he heard her small intake of breath. "Yeah. We know the truth." 


	4. Slow Dances 3

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
Sam set her elbow on the hotel's lobby counter and rested her forehead in her hand. She huffed, closing her eyes for a brief moment.  
  
"Are you absolutely positive you don't have anything available?" she asked again.  
  
"I'm sorry, ma'am. We are completely booked with guests of the wedding, and when you made your reservation you stated only one room."  
  
She groaned and tapped her fingertips on the polished wood. "Yes, but –" She stopped and shook her head. This man didn't care that she had thought she'd be sharing a room with one man, and came with another.  
  
The ironic thing was that the man she planned on sharing the room with ... she had no interest in. And the man she was now sharing a room – well, sharing a room with him was the stuff her fantasies were made of. Dangerous. Way too dangerous.  
  
"Are we all set, Sam?"  
  
Jack's deep voice came from behind her. A shiver ran up her spine, a warm and pleasant shiver. She stood straighter and looked up at him. "Well, just one problem s-Jack."  
  
"No rooms at the inn?" He looked between her and the desk clerk.  
  
"Rooms? No. Room... yes."  
  
His dark gaze turned to her, and his lips parted before he spoke. "Oh," he said softly with a jump of one eyebrow.  
  
"I'm really very sorry, sir," the clerk said. "But we are completely booked with other wedding guests."  
  
Sam stared up at him, waiting to see what he would say... what he would do. One corner of his lips tipped up in a slow, subtle grin. Her body warmed, and she had to look away.  
  
"Not a problem," Jack said and took the keycard from the desk. "Room 312B? Got it."  
  
She could only watch as he picked up their luggage, somehow managing to effortlessly carry two duffels and 2 garment bags to the elevator. Sam finally shook off her shock and raced after him. The elevator door opened as she reached him, and she followed him into the empty car.  
  
He still had the small smirk on his face.  
  
"You don't see the problem with this?"  
  
Jack glanced down at her, adjusting the garment bags that were hooked on his fingers and hung down his back. "There's only a problem if we make it a problem."  
  
Oh, yeah... problem... big BIG problem...HUGE problem...  
  
"Carter, we've slept beside each other how many times in the last seven years? We've shared tighter quarters than a hotel room."  
  
She still hadn't found the ability to speak. His slow grin tipped higher and he leaned towards her, just enough to charge the air in the small space. "What's the matter, Sam? Don't think you can control yourself?"  
  
Sam squinted her eyes and did her best to scowl at him, crossing her arms over her body. "You wish."  
  
He wagged his eyebrows and smirked as the elevator doors opened again.  
  
Jack O'Neill was always the big talker. Yeah, well, his big talk had landed him in hot water more than once in his military career. Now, he found himself chin deep in hot water... and it was rising fast.  
  
"I'm going to ..." Sam trailed off, pointing in the direction of the open bathroom door.  
  
He nodded, letting the straps of the duffels slide off his shoulders as they landed on the bed.  
  
The only bed.  
  
The big, ole King Size bed.  
  
Trying to ignore the obvious implications of sharing a hotel room with Samantha Carter, he busied himself with hanging their garment bags in the closet and flipping through the television guide left on the bedside table. He heard a click as she opened the bathroom doom, sensed her come into the room.  
  
Jack turned, pushing his hands into his pockets. "So, nothing going on tonight," he stated.  
  
"No. Do you want to ..." Her gaze darted to the bed, then quickly back to him. "Do you want to go eat?"  
  
"I could eat."  
  
Sam smiled and shook her head. Jack bowed slightly and swept his arm to the door, allowing her to lead the way. Once out of the 'room' again, Jack felt some of the tension ease. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea... volunteering on a whim to come with her. What was he thinking? Hello? And then to act like sharing a hotel room with his 2IC... with Sam... was no big deal. Great idea, Jack. Just great. 


	5. Slow Dances 4

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
"I don't think I can eat another bite," Sam said with a moan, leaning back in her chair. "This food is amazing."  
  
"Not exactly the Cheyenne Mountain mess." Jack took a sip from his glass of wine.  
  
Sam looked at him, and realized she couldn't recall ever seeing him drink wine. Beer. The hard stuff... but never a glass of Merlot. He brought the goblet away from his lips and looked at her.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing... I just... "She shook her head. "Nothing."  
  
He watched her for several heartbeats. The same slow, easy, heated stare he had placed her under many times in the last few years, as if he saw more when he looked at her than anyone else could see. Her insides heated and liquefied, and she finally forced herself to look away.  
  
"Sure you don't have more room?"  
  
He picked up the plate of chocolate cake that had been sitting at the corner of the table for the last ten minutes – taunting her. It was three layers high with whipped mousse between each moist layer – frosting a good half-inch thick with rosettes and shaved chocolate on the top. Despite herself, she licked her lips.  
  
"I don't think I can..."  
  
He knew her weakness, and she knew he knew. That's why he had asked for the cake at the beginning of the meal, she'd bet her life on it. So that at the end, when she said she couldn't eat more, he'd have it ready.  
  
Evil man.  
  
He took his fork and sliced away a bite, holding it midair in front of his lips, watching her as he opened his mouth and ate the cake. She could only stare. The frosting clung to his lips, and he nodded as he chewed.  
  
"Good cake."  
  
"Looks more like a religious experience to me," she said, looking down at the plate.  
  
"Religion has nothing to do with this."  
  
He cut through the dessert again, balancing a bit piece on the tongs of his fork. Then he set his elbow on the table and held the utensil out to her. She looked from his face, to the cake, and back to him. He raised his brow and nodded once.  
  
"You know you want it."  
  
Well, if I can't have one decadent fantasy, I might as well indulge in the other.  
  
Sam leaned in hesitantly, holding his gaze, and opened her mouth. Jack gently fed her the cake, and she closed her lips on the fork, letting him slide it free. The creamy frosting and mousse hit her tongue and she closed her eyes, humming in ecstasy.  
  
As she chewed it, she mumbled, opening her eyes to see him watching her. His eyelids were heavy over his dark eyes, and his gaze settled on her mouth.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
Sam covered her lips with her fingers, hiding her tongue as she licked her lips. "I said 'orgasm by chocolate'."  
  
His gaze shot up to meet hers.  
  
"Samantha Carter? Is that you?"  
  
Sam quickly sat back and pressed a linen napkin to her lips. She looked up to see a familiar face walking towards them through the hotel's restaurant. A smile hit her lips.  
  
"Jane? Is that you?"  
  
She stood and embraced Jane Bellows, one of her closest friends besides Erin while in college. When she leaned back, she looked down at the woman's burgeoning waistline and mentally put her at about seven months pregnant.  
  
"My God, Jane. You're about to bust."  
  
Jane laughed, putting a hand against her swelling side. "I feel like it, too. Samantha, you look wonderful. It's so good to see you."  
  
"It's good to see you, too." Embarrassment hit her when she realized her lack of manners. She turned back to the table, but jumped when she found Jack standing right behind her. He smiled down at her. "Um, Jane... this is my... um...Colonel..." Suddenly, she had found the ability to speak, and heat rushed her cheeks.  
  
Jack's hand pressed against the small of her back, and she nearly gasped. He extended his other to Jane. "Colonel Jack O'Neill."  
  
Jane took his hand, and arched one approving eyebrow as she looked back at Sam. "Erin said you were bringing a guest. None of us imagined one quite so... definitely of the male persuasion. Nice to meet you, Colonel. Or can I just call you Jack?"  
  
"Jack is fine."  
  
"Have you seen Erin yet?" Jane asked of Sam.  
  
She shook her head, still keenly aware of Jack's hand on the small of her back. He had touched her like that before... not often... but before, and yet the touch was different when felt through layers of mission uniforms and staff-weapon resistant vests. Sam shook off her wandering thoughts and did her best to focus.  
  
"Um, no. We only just checked in. I just figured I would see her tomorrow."  
  
"Oh, at the cookout! That's right." Jane looked at Jack. "Erin will love meeting you, Jack. She's been telling Sam for years it was time she found someone. And you're definitely someone."  
  
Sam's face was going to burst into flames any second now... she just knew it.  
  
"Well, I'm heading up to my room. Phillip is watching the kids, and that usually spells trouble. It was very nice to meet you, Jack, and we'll see you both tomorrow at the barbeque."  
  
Sam embraced Jane one more time before her old friend walked ... waddled... towards the foyer. She remembered now that Jane had two children already, with the third obviously on the way. Regretfully, she admitted to herself that she hadn't kept in as close contact with them over the last ten years as she should have. But the Stargate Program was such a huge part of her life... the simplest thing like making a phone call or sending an email seemed hard to fit in.  
  
She turned to see Jack setting some bills on the table and sliding his wallet into his back pocket. "Oh, Jack... let me..."  
  
"Nope," was his only answer, giving her no room for argument.  
  
In silent agreement, they left the restaurant and headed for the elevators. As the doors closed, Sam chewed on her lower lip, trying to work up enough guts to speak. She crossed her arms over her body and rocked from the balls of her feet back to her heels, and forward again.  
  
"What..." Jack asked.  
  
Sam jumped, and glanced at him. He leaned back against the wall of the elevator, his hand on the stainless steel rail that ran around three sides. Without even trying, he was the sexiest man she had ever seen. She blinked and looked away.  
  
"I'm sorry about that."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Jane. She has a tendency to ... gush... and pretty much speaks her opinion on whatever she wants."  
  
"Aaah," he said with a dismissive wave. "No big shakes."  
  
The elevator bumped to a stop and the doors opened. Jack had the room key in his hand as they reached their door, and after opening it, stepped aside to let her in. The reality of the situation hit her again in one overwhelming wave. She quickly glanced at the small couch that sat against one wall, and wondered about sleeping there. But it was little more than an extra-wide chair. Nope. The bed was it. She shrugged off her light jacket as Jack shut the bathroom door and zipped open her duffle, wishing she had packet differently. While her sleepwear wasn't exactly the skimpy lingerie she might have brought if she had gone through with Pete, a worn tee shirt and men's cotton boxer shorts wasn't exactly the most modest things either.  
  
Especially when the man was Jack O'Neill.  
  
Jack came out of the bathroom, and she didn't dare glance up as he brushed past her. "I'll just change out here," he said as she headed for the door.  
  
She just nodded and closed herself inside. Sam stalled as long as she could. She changed...folded her clothes... brushed her teeth... her hair... washed her face... and when there was nothing left to do, she opened the door.  
  
And nearly died.  
  
Jack sat at the top of the bed, his back against the headboard. One arm was raised behind his head as a support, while the other rested on his raised knee – holding the television remote. He was dressed in flannel pajama bottoms that looked like they had seen better days... the cotton nubbed and looking comfortably worn... and a white tee shirt. The way the shirt lay across his chest and abdomen, it was easy to see how well years of military training had treated his body.  
  
He looked up and Sam froze, her folded clothes held against her chest. She suddenly felt as good as naked. Jack's lips parted, as if he meant to say something, but nothing came out. Sam turned away, crouched to set her clothes on top of the duffle he had moved to the floor, and busied herself with the search for some unknown object in the side pockets.  
  
"Do you want to watch TV, or just get some sleep?" he finally asked.  
  
"Sleep is fine," she said quickly, not daring to trust herself to look at him and talk at the same time.  
  
She couldn't even look his way as he stood off the bed and pulled back the covers. Sam couldn't believe they were being so... cavalier... about sharing a bed. Jack was right... they had slept beside each other before. To keep warm. To protect one another. But there were no extenuating circumstances here other than a fully booked hotel.  
  
Sam slipped between the cool sheets and settled down into the pillow, still not daring to look at him. His weight sank into the mattress and she felt the bed shift. Her body was so hot she wanted to toss back the blankets, but needed the cover they allowed.  
  
"Do you want another pillow?" he asked.  
  
"No," she said quickly. "I'm fine. Thank you."  
  
Jack stretched out beside her and she felt the heat of his body reach her beneath their shared covers.  
  
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God!  
  
He flicked off the light and the room fell into darkness. Sam lay perfectly still, her hands folded together on her stomach, holding her breath.  
  
"Good night, Sam."  
  
She pressed her eyes closed. "Good night." 


	6. Slow Dances 5

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
Only years of disciplined military training kept Jack from jerking awake and shooting himself free of the bed. Training that taught him to take in his surroundings first... analyze the situation... then act in a manner appropriate.  
  
And right now... lying on his side with Sam Carter's back against his chest seemed like a hell of a situation. And it only seemed appropriate to let her sleep.  
  
At least... it sounded good to him.  
  
He had been aware of her body heat, and the contact that ran from shoulder to knees, first and foremost. And as his senses came to life, he became aware of more.  
  
The citrus and melon scent of her hair as it brushed his cheek.  
  
The way one of her feet was tucked between his calves and his top leg brushed her hip.  
  
The fact that his arm rested over his waist and the palm of his hand was against her skin beneath her tee shirt.  
  
And he felt each breath she took as her ribcage expanded, pressing against his chest.  
  
Jack pressed his eyes closed and stifled the groan in his chest as she shifted, her bottom pressing into his lap.  
  
This is not good. No... it's good... just not ... good.  
  
He could tell by her breathing she was still asleep, and doubted he could slide his arm from beneath her head and move away without waking her. So, being the good CO who always watched out for the health and well-being of the people under his command – and considering that sleep was very important to a soldier's health... he didn't wake her.  
  
She stirred again, moving her shoulder to expose the soft column of her throat and leaned back into his chest. Jack pushed up, supporting his weight on his shoulder, to look down into her sleeping face. Her features were soft, calm, peaceful.  
  
Giving in to an urge he knew he would shoot himself for later, Jack leaned in and pressed his lips to the side of her neck, just below her ear.  
  
She hummed...  
  
Ah, damn...  
  
Then she rolled over to face him and curled against his chest, the top of her head tucked beneath his chin. His arm was still over her waist, beneath her shirt, and he gave in to the urge to brush his thumb along her skin. Sam snaked her arm over his side and snuggled closer.  
  
He felt the change. Her body tensed, her breathing stopped for just a moment.  
  
He closed his eyes.  
  
She was awake.  
  
Sam pulled back from him, and he felt her gaze on him even with he eyes pressed shut.  
  
"Oh, God..." he heard her softly mumble.  
  
Sam slipped away from him, and he let his arm fall away from her, rolling onto his back as she escaped the bed. He didn't open his eyes until he heard the bathroom door close. Jack sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees and his head in his hands. Hearing the shower come on, he stood to dress, hoping he could zip his pants by the time she came out. 


	7. Slow Dances 6

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
Jack sat on the railing of the back patio, the sun beating against his back, a cold beer in his hand. The smell of hickory barbeque sauce and roasting hamburger filled the air, making his stomach rumble. He'd be glad when the food was ready.  
  
Sam stood several feet away, chatting animatedly to Jane – the woman he had met the night before – and another woman he had figured out was the Bride- To-Be. The sunlight made Sam's hair shine, and her skin glow. She wore a nice fitting pair of cream ed slacks and a yellow sweater that fit in all the right places. He found himself watching her every move, enjoying the carefree smile on her lips.  
  
"So, you're the guy that Samantha has been hiding all these years?"  
  
Jack looked sideways at the guy standing near him. "What's that?"  
  
The guy motioned towards Sam with the hand holding his beer. "Samantha. We've all lost touch with her in the last few years... since she was stationed in ado Springs. The Cheyenne Mountain complex. We all figured she was her usual workaholic self, but now I'm thinking we may have been wrong."  
  
Jack lowered one foot and stepped down off the railing. He took another drink of his beer. "Sam is very dedicated to her job."  
  
"Yeah," the guy said slowly. "Deep space...something –"  
  
"—telemetry—"  
  
"Yeah. Sounds like a brainiac's dream. She enrolled in the Air Force right out of high school, gets her doctorate paid for by Uncle Sam, and gets a cushy job in beautiful ado looking at constellations through really big telescopes. Sounds pretty safe to me. What's your field of study?"  
  
In two seconds flat, this guy had already royally pissed him off. When Jack thought about all the times Sam had probably indirectly saved this guy's ass... he squinted and looked back to her. She lifted her head and glanced at him, their gazes meeting. Sam smiled, and Jack's anger backed off.  
  
Then her stare shifted from Jack to the idiot beside him. Her smile dropped away, taken over by an expression he couldn't quite name... not even after seven years of reading her like a book. It flashed across her expression, then disappeared, replaced by a deeply suppressed anger.  
  
So he wasn't the only one this guy pissed off.  
  
Sam excused herself from talking to Jane and Erin and walked towards them, her eyes hard on the other guy. Jack shifted his gaze from Sam to the guy and back to Sam. There was a silent war of wills going on between them, and he was curious as hell about what set them off.  
  
"Samantha..." he said as she approached.  
  
"What the hell do you want, Russ."  
  
"I've just been chatting with Jack here. I think he was just about to tell me how the two of you met."  
  
"No, I wasn't," Jack interjected.  
  
She looked up at him, and he could read the spark in her eyes That would certainly be a story to tell over beer and ribs. He chuckled, and was gifted by her smile.  
  
"No, he wasn't," Sam added, but she was looking at Jack.  
  
At that moment, Jack didn't really give a damn what Russ had to say. Sam took the bottle of beer from Jack's hand, and holding his stare, lifted it to her lips and drank. If Jack didn't know better, he'd swear he saw seduction in Sam's eyes. His thoughts flashed back to that morning... holding her... kissing her neck... her curled into his chest.  
  
"No offense to you, Jack, but I don't think any of us ever pictured Samantha with, well, a guy of your... advanced years."  
  
Sam shot a heated glance at Russell, but Jack didn't bother look that way. He was too interested in the way Sam was holding the bottle of beer to her lips, and the way her blue eyes were locked on him. Something was going on behind her eyes, and even though Jack didn't know what it was, he couldn't complain about what it was did to her.  
  
"No offense taken, Russ. After all, I'm the one that got the girl."  
  
Sam smiled. Her palm slid across his, grasping his hand before she set her foot on the lower patio rail. Jack understood her moves and helped her hop up onto the top rail... where he had sat minutes before. She pulled him towards her so they faced each other, effectively turning Jack's back on Russ. It occurred to him that she was possibly using him for Russ's benefit, but it also occurred to him that he didn't really care.  
  
Her hands slid up his arms to his shoulders, one palm curling around the back of his neck. Jack moved his hands up her thighs to set them at her waist. His blood hummed in his ears, and he looked into her face.  
  
Her eyes asked the question... Is this okay?  
  
Jack answered by stepping into the space between her thighs and wrapping his arms around her body. He moved to kiss her, touching her lips with the tip of his tongue before covering them with his mouth. The kiss was slow and deep and dizzying. Sam's fingers curled into the short hair on the back of his head, the other grasping his collar. Her hum reverberated against his lips, and he pulled her closer.  
  
"Wooohooooo!" someone shouted. "Go, Samantha!"  
  
Sam giggled, and Jack smiled, effectively ending the kiss. "No giggling," he whispered.  
  
She shook her head and hugged him, resting her chin on his shoulder. Moments later, when he pulled away, Russ was gone. 


	8. Slow Dances 7

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
Sam stood at the window in an empty bedroom somewhere in Erin's parents' home. She didn't know whose room it was, but it was quiet and secluded and she could think for a few minutes. Outside, the barbeque was still in full swing. People moved around in small groups, drinking and talking. Laughter reached her through the open window. Without being aware that she was doing it, she scanned the crowd for Jack.  
  
Her skin was still humming from the kiss with Jack nearly two hours before. What had she been thinking? What possessed her to kiss him like that? And she wasn't ignoring the fact that he had kissed her right back... and it was one hell of a kiss.  
  
Part of her knew why... She had wanted to do it since she woke up in his arms that morning. Curled against his chest, his warm hand on her skin... his purely male scent filling her senses. It felt right and wonderful... and had melted everything inside her to a warm goo. Even the icy cold shower she had taken hadn't cooled it.  
  
Kissing him at the barbeque, surrounded by people, was safe. If there were ever a time that kissing her CO was safe. There was no way things could go to far. No way she could give in to the desire to do more. Go further.  
  
Break the rules.  
  
Every single one of them.  
  
Years of working as a team, when your life depended on each other, had made Sam's senses keenly aware of his presence whenever he was near. She felt the awareness skitter up her spine, and looked over her shoulder. Standing in the doorway was Jack O'Neill, his shoulder braced against the jamb and his hands in his pockets. He watched her, dark eyes that saw right through her.  
  
"Hey," he said in his distinctive voice.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Jack came into the room, shutting the door behind him. Her heartbeat jumped as the air seemed to close in around her. He walked slowly to her, and she hitched up her chin to hold his gaze. Joining her at the window, he stood just close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body, but they didn't touch. The same dance they'd played for 7 years... close... but not close enough.  
  
Except for this morning...  
  
"Whatcha doin'?  
  
She stared into his face. Even now, with the chaos and confusion that knotted in her chest, she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to be in his arms, to feel his hands on her, to test for herself just how tone his body was.  
  
"Just getting away for a few minutes."  
  
He nodded and looked out the window, his eyes squinting against the bright afternoon sunlight. His arm brushed her shoulder when he leaned forward, and currents ran through her body. She was like a live wire... sparking electricity.  
  
Jack motioned out the window with a tip of his chin, and Sam followed his gaze. Russ stood with Erin and Jane, another beer in hand. The muscles in Sam's neck tensed.  
  
"I didn't like that guy," Jack stated flatly.  
  
Sam smiled and laughed softly. "You always were a good judge of character."  
  
He looked down at her, his sculpted lips straight and his eyes dark. Sam's breath caught and she felt her pulse jump at the base of her throat. His lips parted, characteristic of Jack just before he was about to say something important.  
  
"What did he do to you?"  
  
"Nothing I didn't get over a long time ago."  
  
One eyebrow arched. "You sure? Cuz I would so kick his ass if you want me to."  
  
Before she did something she knew she shouldn't, Sam stepped away from the window and walked to the foot of the single-size bed, her arms crossed over her body. She stared down at the carpet, pushing the toe of her sneaker into the fibers.  
  
"About Russ..." she began, then cleared her throat. "I want to apologize for... earlier."  
  
"Was I complaining?"  
  
She could hear the grin in his voice without looking at him, and it eased some of the knotted tension in her shoulders. With a resolved sigh, she sat o the edge of the bed.  
  
"I could give you this long, convoluted story about how Russ hurt me fifteen-whatever years ago – which he did – and tell you I kissed you out there to somehow feel like I was proving a point to him. Which, maybe deep down that's at least partially what it was all about – but for the most part it would just be an excuse. Because I got over what he did a very long time ago. Now, I just don't like him. But..."  
  
Her thoughts trailed off as Jack walked towards her. The closer he came, the harder it was for her to keep her thoughts in line. On the subject at hand. He stopped near her, and just glancing out of the corner of her eyes, she saw he still had his hands in his pockets. Her gaze drifted from the soft blue of his shirt and the way it hung perfectly over his trim hips, to the relaxed yet snug fit of his jeans. The image that would forever be burned into her mind of Jack reclined on their hotel bed... relaxed and sexy... waiting for her, danced in her mind.  
  
"But ... what?"  
  
She forced herself to look up at him. "But it was all just an excuse kiss you."  
  
Before she could see his expression, she covered her eyes with her hands and flung herself back on the bed with a loud groan. Her breath caught when she felt the mattress give beneath his added weight, and sensed him stretching out beside her. He didn't touch her, but his body was so close – her heart pounded furiously. Sam just held her hands over her face, not daring to look, not wanting to think about what might happen if she did.  
  
Then his large fingers curled around one of her wrists and he pulled her hand away. She kept her eyes closed until he pulled back the other, and only then dared look up. Jack supported his weight on his elbow, with his fist against his temple, staring down at her. His expression was soft, yet heated at the same time. Sam couldn't recall ever seeing his eyes so dark.  
  
"Do you think you need an excuse to kiss me?"  
  
She stared at him, knowing she was probably wide-eyed. "Jack! We shouldn't be kissing at all! Excused or not!"  
  
He set his finger against her lips and she stopped, unable to look away from him. His gaze shifted to her mouth briefly before he looked into her eyes again. She held her breath as he smoothed his fingertips across her cheek.  
  
"It was time," he said simply.  
  
Sam wrinkled her brow and tilted her head. "Time?"  
  
Jack's lips turned up in a slight grin. "Come on, Carter. You're the brainiac, you haven't figured it out by now?"  
  
She shook her head, slowly losing the ability to think as his fingers moved down her throat to caress her collarbone through the neckline of her sweater.  
  
Jack's face lit up into his 'wow, I know something Carter doesn't know' expressions. She didn't mind, dizzy from his gentle touch.  
  
"We've danced around this... thing that I refuse to name... for seven years. We both know it's here, right?"  
  
Sam nodded, giving in to the urge to raise her arm and press her hand against his stomach. His abdominal muscles tensed beneath her touch, and a small sense of satisfaction moved through her. That she had the same effect on him that he had on her.  
  
"The only reason I haven't gone completely insane is for moments like this."  
  
She was beginning to understand, and realized he was right. They were able to keep themselves distant... apart... for most of the time. But sometimes, the need to let go... to give in to the need, even if just a little and just for a moment... was too much to deny. And that was when he would embrace her... or she would just touch his hand... and it was enough to know that they were still there for each other.  
  
"It's getting harder," she said through a tight throat.  
  
Jack nodded. "I know."  
  
"Eventually, moments like this won't be enough—"  
  
"—for either of us. I know."  
  
Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked to try and keep them at bay. One escaped and she felt it run across her temple to her hair. Jack leaned down and kissed the damp spot, and Sam drew in a shuttered breath.  
  
"Then we'll just have to make this weekend a good one. To get us through."  
  
Sam smiled and touched his face. He grasped her wrist and turned his face into her palm, kissing the sensitive skin there. There was so much going unsaid, but Sam knew that most of it didn't need to be said. Jack shifted his weight off his arm and leaned in to press his lips over hers. The kiss was slow and restrained, and turned her inside out.  
  
Then he broke away and rose off the bed in one fluid motion, offering her his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, and against him.  
  
"So, what... we get twenty-four hours to hold us over until... some as-of-yet- undetermine time?"  
  
"Pretty much," Jack said, wrapping his arms around her with his hands clasped together behind her waist. "Can you handle that?"  
  
"Can you?"  
  
He smiled. "Is there an option B?"  
  
"Not a viable one, no."  
  
"Then I can handle it." He smiled. "And if we're really good, we can stretch it out to thirty-six hours."  
  
Sam stepped back and laced her fingers through his. "If we don't go back out soon, they might send a search party for us."  
  
As they walked to the bedroom door, Jack said, "As long as it isn't SG-17. That Sanderson is an idiot." 


	9. Slow Dances 8

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
Jack sat at the foot of the bed and bent over to tie his shoes, smiling as he listened to Sam humming in the bathroom. He couldn't place the tune, but she could be humming the Battle Hymn of the Republic and he'd like it.  
  
As he sat up, he caught his image in the large mirror on the opposite wall. He had only a brief passing thought about the unique placement of the mirror in relation to the bed, before his own face made him stop.  
  
What the hell was he thinking? What the hell was either one of them thinking? If General Hammond – or any ranking officer, for that matter – found out about this little weekend getaway they both would be court martialed so fast their heads wouldn't have time to spin.  
  
Jack shook his head before setting it in his hands. They were walking a damn fine line. Technically, nothing had happened that hadn't happened before. They had slept beside each other on countless missions. They had spent time together outside the base. They had shared meals, both on base and off. They had even kissed. But this... this willful choice to push the regs aside... if even for two days...  
  
He stood and paced the floor from the bed to the window, his hands set at his waist.  
  
Neither one of them had to spell out the rules. He knew she knew. Things could only... would only... go so far. No matter how much he wanted more. The responsibility fell on him.  
  
He had managed to keep it all under control – well, kinda – until she kissed him. Then that was it. All bets were off. Stick him with a fork cuz he was done.  
  
There had been a time when he didn't think he'd ever 'want' for a woman's touch again.  
  
Enter Captain Samantha Carter.  
  
And gradually, over the last few years, it had grown harder and harder to ignore what she did to him. He hadn't been completely honest with her when he told her that times like this – when they both let down their guard – were what kept him sane. They were, in fact, the moments that drove him to the point of insanity. But what they did do was keep him going.  
  
Fighting.  
  
Living.  
  
His gut told him something was coming. Something big. Something nasty. Something he wasn't so sure he was going to come out of. The why and how of it, he didn't know. But threads were unraveling, and his instincts didn't like it. Ever since they lost the Doc – Janet – he knew nothing would be the same.  
  
So... two days. He had two days to find a balance between holding on to what he needed and not taking too much.  
  
The bathroom door opened, and Jack turned. He was staring... knew he was staring... but found no reason to stop. Sam walked towards him, slipping an earring into her right ear, a smile on her lips. She wore a sexy red dress that bared her shoulders and dipped just low enough to nearly cause Jack to actually groan. The fabric creased and stretched over her torso and hips, accentuating her waist, only to flare out in a skirt that draped down her legs and did unmentionable things to his imagination. Her hair was done in big, chunky curls that made her neck look all the longer and more kisseable.  
  
Sam stopped several feet from him. He finally forced his eyes back up to look into her face. With a grin, she turned slowly, and he nearly choked. The back of the dress connected with one tiny button at shoulderblade level, then opened up to reveal her entire back down to the base of her spine. He couldn't figure out how in the world the thing stayed on – and in place – but he was damn happy it did.  
  
She turned again, and the skirt flirted around her legs. The high heels she wore gave her feet a sexy arch and only accentuated the strength and shape of her calves.  
  
"Are you going to say something?" she finally asked.  
  
"Wow is the only thing that comes to mind," he managed to say.  
  
Her expression seemed to shift, to something more wary and tentative. "I don't get to dress like a girl very often. I'm afraid I'm not very good at it."  
  
Jack took one broad step to close the space between them, taking her chin in his hands before he covered her mouth with his own. She hummed against his lips as her hands touched his waist, just slipping beneath his sweater to touch the shirt beneath.  
  
Layering... who's brilliant idea was layering?  
  
They were both breathless by the time one of them found the strength to pull away. Jack held his hands against her throat and cheeks, resting his forehead against hers, as he stroked her skin with his thumbs.  
  
"Khaki tank tops will never hold the same appeal to me again," he said before raising his chin to kiss her brow.  
  
Sam swatted his side gently, laughing softly. It was an old joke, and one that never failed to get her ire up. All the more reason to tease. He loved the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.  
  
"We'd better go or we're going to be late for dinner."  
  
As she walked away, the faint purple blue shadow of a bruise caught his eye from the edge of the dress around her shoulderblade. He touched the spot, and she looked at him over her shoulder.  
  
"What? Can you see it? I hoped the dress would cover it."  
  
"It's not bad."  
  
"This from a man who has seen me with how many bumps, bruises and contusions?"  
  
He moved close to her, but stayed behind her, staring into her eyes. Jack brushed the darkened skin with his fingertips as he held her gaze.  
  
"And each time, I've wanted to do this..."  
  
He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her skin, just beside her spine. Sam sucked in a sharp breath, and he smiled. When he stood, he noticed her cheeks were flushed and her lips were parted as she took in each quick breath.  
  
"We really need to go..."  
  
She took his hand, and he let her lead him from the hotel room. There would be plenty of time for self-recrimination and doubts later. Tonight, the rest of the world be damned. 


	10. Slow Dances 9

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
Jane and Erin took turns reliving tales from their days at MIT, of parties Sam hadn't attended and gatherings she had probably skipped because she had a report due or an upcoming exam. Occasionally, they would find an embarrassing tale to relay to Jack – and Sam tried – unsuccessfully – to divert the conversation.  
  
"Jane, please... that was a very long time ago—"  
  
"Oh, come on, Sam. I'd love to hear."  
  
Jack's arm rested on the back of her chair, and his fingertips had been caressing her neck and shoulders for the last five minutes... driving her to the near brink of insanity. She tried to control herself, but worried that if he didn't stop soon she could very well orgasm sitting right there at the table.  
  
His palm came against her skin as he curled his hand around the back of her neck. "I can always use more ammunition..."  
  
She shot him an oh-very-funny glance. "I suppose you're going to tell Daniel and T—Tom as soon as we get back?"  
  
"Who's Daniel and T-Tom?" Russ asked, mocking her near slip.  
  
"Just two friends of ours," Sam answered. "We work together."  
  
"Doing Deep Space Telemetry..."  
  
Sam glared at Russ. After all these years, he was still the biggest ass she had ever known. Jack's thumbs worked the tight knot Russell's questions had immediately formed in her shoulders. She took in a long, deep breath and snaked her hand under the table to rest it on Jack's knee.  
  
"Yes," she said, making sure her voice made it clear Russ should shut up and back off.  
  
He didn't get the hint.  
  
"I don't know. It always seemed to us that something so benign as deep space telemetry would be too beneath the wonder child we knew as Samantha Carter. You had such a promising future with the Air Force, didn't you, Samantha? I remember you saying you wanted to be an astronaut. What happened? Did you flunk out of flight school? Piss someone off and get bumped to the pointless job of mapping galaxies no human will ever see?"  
  
"Russ, drop it..." Jane whispered.  
  
"Now, come on, Jane. We've all been wondering. We barely hear from Samantha for years... just the occasional Christmas card or email... to the two of you, anyway... and she sweeps in to Erin's wedding with a grin on her face and a Colonel on her arm. We want to know what's been going on for the last ten years, Samantha. Fill us in. For instance, how long have you and the Colonel here known each other?"  
  
Jack's hand slipped from her neck and he sat forward, folding his hands together on the tabletop. Sam felt the shift in his demeanor, recognized the authority in his stance.  
  
"Not seeing why that's important, Russ."  
  
"We want to know, Jack. We're her friends."  
  
"Russell..." Erin said, backing up Jane's previous request.  
  
"And if the two of you work in the same place... and forgive me if I'm wrong, because I'm in no way a military aficionado... can you even date? Or... is what you do qualify as dating? After all, 'dating' might be too young a word for a man of Jack's advanced years."  
  
"Russell, shut the hell up," Phillip, Jane's husband, snapped.  
  
Sam saw Jack's hands curl into fists, and she shot to her feet. "Dance with me, Jack," she said quickly.  
  
He raised his head and glared at Russ across the table. But he didn't move. She put her hand on his shoulder, and realized he was holding his breath. Not moving. Not flinching.  
  
"Jack, please..."  
  
Then he stood, and with his hand pressed to her back, they moved to the dance floor as a new song began. Jack pulled her to him, his arms hard, but gentled as they closed around her. He twirled her around once before bringing her close and grasping her hand over his heart. Their cheeks rested together and his breath whispered over her ear as they swayed to the music. Despite his attempt to squelch it, Sam felt the tension in his body.  
  
"Jack..." she said softly.  
  
"Shhhhh."  
  
She closed her eyes and enjoyed being in his arms. His hand moved up and down her spine, warm and gentle and he dipped his head to press his face against her shoulder and she heard him draw in a long breath.  
  
"Jack..." she said again. "Jack, I'm sorry."  
  
"No talking."  
  
Sam smiled, despite the anger that Russ had stirred in her. They continued the dance, and Sam slipped her arms up to wrap them around his neck. Their dance was probably more provocative than most on the floor, but she didn't care. Like he had said before, and she had agreed, they only had this weekend and she was going to take what she could.  
  
She stroked his hair and relished in the feeling of being cherished by him.  
  
"Sam," he finally said.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm so going to kick his ass by the end of this weekend."  
  
She laughed and pulled back enough to look into his face. The smile on his lips was subtle, but it reached all the way to his brown eyes. The tension was gone... the anger dissipated. Sam held her hands against his cheeks and leaned up for a kiss. His open lips covered hers and he stopped dancing, holding her in the deep contact. Her insides liquefied, warmed and spread out into her limbs. Her heart pounded... her breath quickened.  
  
Why did he have to kiss her like this in public?  
  
The music stopped, and the conductor announced a short break. Reluctantly, they had to leave the dance floor and head back to the table. Sam noticed the men were gone, leaving only Jane and Erin seated. She glanced around, and back at Erin as Jack pulled her chair out for her.  
  
"Phillip and Tim took Russ to the bar. I think they're going to tell him to knock it off if he knows what's good for him. Jack, I'm so sorry Russ is being such an ass. I don't know what his problem is."  
  
"I do. Russ has always been an ass," Sam said.  
  
Jack stood behind her chair, not sitting, and rested his hand on her shoulder. "I'll be right back," he said.  
  
She looked up at him. "Jack..."  
  
"Don't worry," he said with a cocky grin and a wag of his eyebrows. "No blood will be spilled."  
  
Then he walked away, leaving Sam to sit and watch him go. Erin's voice pulled her back.  
  
"Russ was right when he said we want to know what's been going on in your life, Samantha. But not the way he said it. We just care." Erin smiled and glanced in the direction that Jack had left in. "And you have to understand our interest. Your Colonel O'Neill is one sexy man!"  
  
Sam smiled, slowly and knowingly. "Yes, he is." She took in a long, shuddered breath. And in less than thirty-six hours he'll go back to being my Colonel, not My Colonel. 


	11. Slow Dances 10

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
Jack raised a hand in greeting to Phil and Tim as he walked by the bar area just off the main dining room. They both raised their glasses of beer in return. He noted that Russ the Ass was not with them, and continued on to the men's room.  
  
Russ came out just as Jack neared the door. He was looking down, but stopped short of running straight into Jack's chest. Russ stepped back, a nervous look passing over his face just before it was replaced by a stupid cockiness.  
  
"Well, Colonel O'Neill. What a coincidence meeting you here."  
  
Jack stared the man down, pushing his hands into his pockets. "No coincidence, Russ."  
  
"Do you have something to say to me?"  
  
Jack took one hand out of his pocket, and noted Russell's almost unnoticeable flinch. He hid his smirk by running his fingers across his mouth. "Here's the thing, Russ. Sam came here to have fun... relax... see some old friends. She doesn't need you being a pain in the ass."  
  
"Are you her father? Or her date?"  
  
Jack clenched his jaw for several heartbeats before he spoke again. "This is what's going to happen, Russ. You're going to go back to the table, excuse yourself to the ladies, and disappear for the rest of the night."  
  
"Oh, really?"  
  
"Yes... really. And I'd make myself silent and scarce tomorrow. Capiche?"  
  
Russ didn't say anything, only standing with his arms crossed over his chest while Jack stared him down. But it was clear a good bit of the starch had left his backbone.  
  
"Good," Jack said and turned to go back to Sam.  
  
"I don't know what she told you, but I'm not the bad guy here. As far as I was concerned, Samantha Carter was just a good piece of---"  
  
Jack silenced all words when he twisted and brought his forearm against Russell's throat, slamming his back against the wall. Russ coughed and sputtered, yanking at Jack's arm as he tried to find the floor that was a good two inches beneath his feet. Russell's eyes were wide and his face was turning a pleasant shade of red.  
  
"Say it... think it... and you'll really wish you had never opened your mouth. And I'll tell you something, Russ. I won't be the one to kick your ass, as much as I'd like to. No, Russ... I'm gonna stand back and watch Major Samantha Carter kick it. You don't stand a chance," Jack said through clenched teeth. "And watching her take apart bigger men than you really turns me one," he added, and not-so-gently patted the man's cheek  
  
He dropped his arm and Russ sank to the floor, gasping for air with his hands to his throat. Jack made a show of straightening his sweater, dusting non-existent particles from his sleeve and glancing over his shoulder.  
  
"You probably won't want to mention this to Tim or Phillip. Telling them you got roughed up by an old man like me... well, geez... that'd be almost as bad as admitting you got beat up by a girl. And after all, Russ, that's what happened wasn't it? You tried to force yourself on Sam, and she kicked your ass for it."  
  
Russ managed to catch his breath, and sputtered, "She told you?"  
  
"Nah. But I know her... she hurt you, but I tell ya, I've taught her a few tricks since then. Good-bye, Russ."  
  
He put his hands back in his pockets, glanced around and grinned. "I promised her there'd be no blood." Then he turned and walked away.  
  
Tim and Phillip were already back at the table when he reached them, and Sam glanced at him with wary blue eyes. Jack just smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek before he sat down.  
  
"Did they bring out the dessert yet?" he asked.  
  
"On its way. I ordered for you, if that's okay..." Sam said, still watching him.  
  
"Of course. You know what I like," he said, matching her gaze.  
  
Her expression eased and a smile took over her expression. He squeezed her hand beneath the table.  
  
"You didn't see Russ, did you?" Tim asked.  
  
Jack looked to them, but saw the said cretin approaching them, his face still red and his eyes still wide. Their stares met, and Jack felt an intense rush of satisfaction at the way the guy blanched.  
  
"Here he is now."  
  
Russ approached the table, but avoided Jack's eyes. "Um, I think I'm gonna call it a night. I – I'm not feeling very well."  
  
"Are you okay, Russ?" Erin asked.  
  
"Oh, yeah, sure. Just – uh – something didn't agree with me. I'm going to go to my room. I'll see you at the wedding tomorrow."  
  
Before the women could say goodnight, he was gone. Sam turned to him, staring into his face, and he did his best to put on his don't-look-at-me- I'm-innocent face. A slow, sexy smile bowed her lips.  
  
"Wonder what got to him?" Tim asked.  
  
"Yeah, I wonder..." Sam said before taking her gaze from him and turning to the chocolate cake the waiter set before her.  
  
"Mmmmm.... Cake," Jack said, picking up his fork. 


	12. Slow Dances 11

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
Sam leaned into the elevator wall and groaned softly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
She opened her eyes and looked at Jack, an immediate and intense warmth flooding over her. Tonight had been one of the best evenings she could ever remember. Spending time with old friends, Jack beside her. Holding her while they danced. Laughing at all the stories. Touching her beneath the tablecloth. Taking her hand.  
  
What a simple act it was... taking someone's hand. It wasn't overly erotic... overtly sexual... but was purely wonderful in its simplicity. Something so many took for granted, and she would never take for granted again. She held out her hand to him, and he took it, stepping closer to her in the confined space.  
  
"My feet," she finally answered. "I'm not exactly accustomed to wearing anything other than SGC-issue combat boots and the occasional sneaker. Five inch heels and a night of dancing are about to do me in."  
  
He stepped back, still holding her hand, and looked down the length of her. "Yeah, but they're hot."  
  
The elevator dinged and bumped to a stop to let them out of their floor. Jack held her hand as they walked down the hall, and she did her best to still look graceful. But the balls of her feet were throbbing, and right about then she'd give her left arm for a comfortable pair of slippers. A few feet short of their door, Jack stopped and surprised Sam by dropping to one knee in front of her.  
  
"Jack...?"  
  
He gently took hold of one of her ankles, and after she put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, he unbuckled the shoe and slipped it off her foot. Sam sighed as she stepped flat on the plush hall carpet.  
  
"Oh, that's nice."  
  
He lifted his chin to look up at her, and smiled his slowest – sexiest grin. Then he tapped her other ankle and she shifted her weight so he could unbuckle that one as well. With both feet free of the torturous shoes, he stood and picked them up, hooking the back straps over his fingers to carry them at his side. With his arm around her waist, they reached the hotel room door and he used his passkey to open it.  
  
Sam padded across the soft floor, enjoying the cushioning beneath her feet and sank down on the bed. Jack took a seat on the small piece of furniture she couldn't quite bring herself to call a couch, and watched her. She felt the heat of his gaze on her as real as a touch, and looked at him. His brown eyes nearly smoldered.  
  
"Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?" he finally said.  
  
"Not in so many words..."  
  
He lifted his chin slightly, parted his lips, then said, "Consider it mentioned."  
  
Sam didn't want to think about the fact that less than twenty-four hours from that moment it would be over. They would be back in ado Springs... she would be in her quiet little house... he would be in his secluded one... and they would be alone. She wanted to go on pretending that this was the first day of the rest of their lives.  
  
She never wanted it to end.  
  
Sam stared at him and released a shuddered sigh.  
  
He came off the couch in fluid motion, and as their open mouths came together, he laid her back on the bed. His body weight was delicious and erotic and set her blood on fire as he pressed her into the mattress. She refused to think about tomorrow... the future... only the moment. The now.  
  
Jack.  
  
Just Jack.  
  
He pressed kisses to her throat and shoulders, his breath warm and his tongue hot. Sam held on, feeling the hard strength of his muscles through his clothes, wishing she could tear the sweater's fibers away and let her feel his skin. His mouth found hers once more, and as he kissed her again and again... one kiss never ending before the next onslaught began... she prayed for a miracle.  
  
Then his arms came around her, snaking between her body and the bed, and he pulled her to him in an almost impossibly tight hold. She fought to catch her breath as he pressed his face into her neck and she felt him draw in a shaky breath. The sob that ripped through her took her by surprise, and she had no defense against it. Tears ran to her temples, wetting her hair, and Jack still held on. Sam buried her face against the soft knit of his sweater and clung to him with all the strength she had.  
  
When Jack opened his eyes the next morning, he found himself staring into Sam's blue gaze. She was as close to him as possible, with her head propped against her arm, watching him. Jack smiled, and tightened his arm around her waist, bringing her closer still.  
  
"Hey," he said, his voice morning-rough.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Sam touched his face, and he heard her nails scrape across the rough bristles he hadn't yet shaved away. She moved her touch to his lips, making them tingle with the delicateness of the caress.  
  
"I love your lips," she said softly.  
  
"I kinda like yours, too."  
  
She smiled, but he saw the shadows behind her blue eyes. The night before had been rough... for both of them. He mentally kicked himself a dozen times over for pushing the limits as far as he had. Three months in an Iraqi prison, and seven years of fighting the Goa'uld didn't hold a candle to the strength he had to call on to stop from making love to her. Just to keep from touching her... getting that much closer to her. He didn't dare see how far his self-restraint would go.  
  
Sam shifted and Jack rolled to his back so she lay partially across his body. He liked looking up at her while lying in bed. Liked it a lot. He slowly worked his hands over her back, feeling through the tee shirt the gentle beads that made her spine, down over the soft swell of her backside. It would take no effort at all to pull her across his lap...  
  
He closed his eyes and pressed his head back into the pillows as she seemed to read his fantasy and settled her body across his, her thighs on each side of his hips.  
  
"Sam..." he moaned out.  
  
Her hands slipped beneath his tee shirt, pushing it up his stomach. The skin of her palms were hot against him, and before he could reason with himself to stop, he took her head between his hands and pulled her down for an open-mouthed kiss that rocked him to his core.  
  
"Jack, please..." she said against his mouth.  
  
He knew the evidence of how much he wanted to do just what she begged was physically and blatantly obvious... no training in the world could have prevented it. She rocked her hips, and despite the thin layers of clothing between them, Jack thought he was going to die. He moved his hands to her hips, and even though every alarm in his head was going off to STOP, he guided her movements to bring her closer still.  
  
Sam tipped her head back, her nails curling into his chest.  
  
"Jack..."  
  
He rolled them together, taking the top position, settling between her thighs. Sam's breath came in short, rapid snaps and her eyes glistened with arousal. Jack moved against her, wishing with all he was that their clothing wasn't between them... and thanking anyone who would listen that they were. He braced his elbows into the mattress and brought his weight off her.  
  
Even that shift their bodies was enough to set every nerve ending in his body to sparking. Sam moaned, a soft purr in her throat.  
  
"Damn it..." he whispered, his voice rough in his own throat. "Sam."  
  
She opened her eyes and looked at him, and he immediately saw the moisture glistening there again. But he couldn't begrudge her the way she felt, because he felt the same way. If he could, he'd probably cry, too.  
  
He stroked her face and leaned in to kiss away a tear as it fell.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Sam. I never should have—"  
  
She pressed her finger to his lips. "No. I refuse to regret anything, and I won't let you either."  
  
Only because he had to before he forgot every resolve in his heart, he moved off her and pulled her with him so they lay facing each other again. Silent tears ran from Sam's eyes and he stroked them away.  
  
"Sam, the first time I make love to you I don't want to have to pretend it never happened the next day. I don't want to act like it's something I wish I had never done."  
  
She sniffed. "Neither do I."  
  
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, enjoying one last time the feel of having her in his bed and in his embrace. Jack kissed her hair, her temple and her neck before pressing his lips to her own.  
  
"Jack, I---"  
  
"Shhhhh," he whispered. "Let me hold you just a little while longer." 


	13. Slow Dances 12

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
"Have I ever mentioned how much I love you in your Dress Blues?"  
  
Jack smiled down at her, and Sam felt the simmering heat that had taken over her body flare into a flash fire. He held her hand against his chest, over the array of assorted medals that adorned his uniform, as they danced together at Erin and Tim's reception. The music was slow and seductive...and Sam didn't need a single note of it to be keenly, almost painfully, aware of her need.  
  
"Ever since that first day, when I walked into the SGC and reported for duty. I was expecting a hero... a man I had read about and learned about for months... "  
  
"Disappointed?"  
  
Sam shook her head. "Not at all. You were all that..." she smiled mischievously, "And a bag of chips."  
  
Jack chuckled and pulled her close enough that their cheeks came together. He turned her around the dance floor with a skill she hadn't expected.  
  
"You're quiet the dancer, too, Colonel O'Neill."  
  
He braced her back with his arm, and with one practiced move, dipped her back until she was parallel with the floor. Sam laughed as he brought her up again, catching her mouth in an all-too-brief kiss.  
  
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you've had practice..."  
  
"What.. dipping? Maybe..." he said, raising his eyebrows as he looked down at her.  
  
"When?"  
  
He smiled, his typical don't-you-wish-you-knew-what-I-was-thinking grin. A memory flashed in Sam's mind of the first time she saw that smile. After Jack and Teal'c were freed from the time loop they were trapped in for weeks on end. Daniel had asked Jack a question... about the opportunity to do something without regret or consequence... he had looked at her with that very same grin.  
  
"Jack O'Neill..."  
  
"What..."  
  
Then she shook her head, deciding she didn't want or need to know. That was so long ago... what was important was the 'them' of the here and now. And that was all she had to focus on... the here and the now, because it would all be over far too soon. The hours ticked away at lightening speed.  
  
"I like you in blue, too... dress blue or not."  
  
Sam stepped back from him and he spun her around, bringing her back against his chest with his arms wrapped around her. She looked down at the blue cocktail dress she had chosen, with the not-too-deep cleavage and elegant lines. She had loved it in the store window, and enjoyed Jack's appreciative glances whenever he looked her way. Again, he spun her away, and brought her back into his embrace.  
  
She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed as his arms tightened around her.  
  
"I feel like Cinderella," she said. "And it's quickly approaching midnight."  
  
His hold on her changed, she felt the tension move through his body. Not anger, not anything like that... just a broken moment.  
  
"One more dance, and then we'll go."  
  
Sam nodded and rested her head against his chest for the final song of the night. 


	14. Slow Dances 13

Disclaimer: See Original Post  
  
Jack pulled Sam's car into his driveway, parking behind his pick up, and turned off the ignition. The car fell into darkness, the lights of the dashboard extinguished. Everything was dark, with the hour quickly approaching 2400.  
  
Sam sat silent and still beside him. She hadn't said much for the last twenty minutes, but her grip on his hand, resting on the seat between them, had been firm... almost desperate. He understood.  
  
"Come inside," he said after several moments. "Have a drink or something before you drive home."  
  
She only nodded and opened her door. They came together at the hood of the car again, and their hands found each other in the darkness. Jack fished his keys from his jeans pocket and let the way to the front steps and up to the door.  
  
Inside the house, he reached for a light switch, but Sam reached out to stop him. "No, Jack. I like the dark."  
  
He shut the door and tossed his keys on the small table beside it. Without having to ask what she needed, he pulled her into his arms and held her. He knew, because he needed it himself. She took a long, shuddered breath that seemed to move through her whole body, and Jack drew in through his nose the scents he had long ago learned to connect with Sam Carter.  
  
"Stay, Sam."  
  
She didn't say anything, but her arms tightened around him and he felt her breath stop short.  
  
"Just a few more hours."  
  
Sam nodded against his shoulder. Still in the dark, he took her hand and led her down the hall to his bedroom. In silence, he pushed her jacket off her shoulders and felt her hands on his arms... doing the same. He slipped his feet free of his sneakers, and steadied her as she removed her own. Her hands sought the snap of his jeans, and he clenched his jaw tight to keep from moaning when she slipped them past his hips. Stripped down to his tee shirt and boxers, and Sam in her tee shirt and under things, he guided her in the dark to the bed.  
  
The moon came through his open blinds, shedding silver light across the rumpled quilt. He tossed it back, and together they lay down, facing each other. Sam looked at him, her features lit by the moon's soft light, and he nearly choked at what he saw there. Everything neither of them had said... everything that could be said but wouldn't be until the time was right... shined in her eyes. Clear and bright and pure.  
  
Jack smoothed his hands over her features, enjoying the soft warmth of her skin. She nuzzled against him, pressing her face into his chest, and they settled into the pillows for just a few more hours together before the world returned to reality.  
  
"Good morning, Sam."  
  
Sam looked up from her coffee and cold scrambled eggs to see Daniel approach her table in the commissary. She smiled and moved her tray so he would have room to place his own. He sat down, a wide smile on his face.  
  
"Not hungry?" he said, noting her partially picked at breakfast.  
  
Sam shrugged. "Not really. What have you got there?" She pointed to the file folder he set down on the table.  
  
"Oh, I spent the weekend going over the etchings from the P3X-439 colonnade. I think I'm finally starting to make some headway, but nothing yet. Hey, Jack!"  
  
A twittering sensation danced over her skin and she sat straighter. Sam sensed him behind her just before he pulled out a chair and sat at the table. His knee brushed her thigh as he scooted forward, only a cup of coffee in his hand. She swallowed the rush of intense awareness that washed over her, rushing straight to her cheeks.  
  
"What's up with the two of you? Giving up breakfast?"  
  
Sam glanced at Jack, and found his dark gaze on her. But he quickly looked away and down at her cold breakfast. "What's up, Carter? Breakfast is usually your favorite meal of the day."  
  
I would have made it for you myself, if I could have.  
  
She saw it in his eyes, and willed herself to hide the swirling emotion in her chest. Leaving him that morning was one of the hardest things she had ever done, coming a close second to not making love to him.  
  
"Just not hungry this morning, sir."  
  
"Rough weekend?"  
  
She smiled, and hoped she didn't look too goofy doing it. But if she couldn't let out the heated emotion, she could let out the happiness.  
  
"Not at all, sir. I had a wonderful weekend."  
  
"Oh? What'd you do?" Daniel asked.  
  
"I-um," she cleared her throat. "I went to the wedding of an old friend in Denver."  
  
"Sounds like a good time," he said, his mouth full of waffles.  
  
She looked back at Jack. "It was. I could have stayed forever."  
  
"What about you, Jack. What'd you do all weekend?" Daniel asked. "I called once or twice, but you didn't answer."  
  
Jack held her gaze one second short of too long, and looked across the table at Daniel. "I saw a good friend."  
  
"Oh. That sounds nice, too. Anyone we know?"  
  
Heat burned in Sam's cheeks she couldn't understand why Daniel didn't see the flames. She looked down at her hands folded in her lap and pushed through every bit of military training she had to get her emotions under control. There was no other way. No other choice. She swore to him she could... she would... and she wouldn't let him down. Wouldn't let them down.  
  
Jack took a sip of his coffee and snatched a piece of toast from her tray, biting into it. "So, what're you working on, Danny Boy..." he asked, avoiding the question.  
  
Daniel launched into another long diatribe about the etchings on P3X-439, and how if his theory proved true, they might be a step closer to the Lost City. If only he could decipher just a few more symbols.  
  
"It's almost like a crossword puzzle. If you can get one word – like one across – it gives you hints for two and four down. Even if you don't know the answers, you're a step closer."  
  
"Oh, well... you should be able to figure it out, Daniel. I mean, even I can do crossword puzzles."  
  
Sam tried to control her grin when she looked at him. "Oh, really?"  
  
He sat back and made his what? face. "Yeah, Carter. I like crossword puzzles."  
  
She felt it happen... in one instant they slipped into their familiar grooves. CO and his 2IC... friends... jokers... not near lovers. It was a loss, but it was good to find her balance again. Equilibrium.  
  
"Okay, sir. I bet you $20 you can't do the Post's crossword puzzle by ... say... Thursday? No, I'll be generous and give you until Friday."  
  
His lips tipped up in a sexy grin, one that would always sent her stomach into a fluttering jumble. "Fine. You're on, Carter."  
  
"With no help."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"I mean it. No help."  
  
He extended his hand, and she took it. Warmth shot up her arm as a single fingertip caressed the inside of her wrist... unseen by Daniel. "You're on, Major."  
  
"We'll see, sir." 


End file.
